


true that I saw her hair (like the branch of a tree)

by moonlitpyre



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Byleth never goes to garregh mach, F/M, King Dimitri, Meet-Cute, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and there's no war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24031111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitpyre/pseuds/moonlitpyre
Summary: She was a serious woman, of that he had no doubt, and a strange sight to be found among such a rowdy and playful group. He had gazed upon her once before he took a seat. She returned his gaze for a brief moment before she took a turn around and promptly left.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	true that I saw her hair (like the branch of a tree)

**Author's Note:**

> Been loving this pairing for a few months now, it was only a matter of time before I wrote a fic for them. I wrote this on a whim last night, based on a prompt given to me by my friend Crystal: "I stole your horse when I was running from someone, now I came to return it, please don't be mad".
> 
> Many thanks to my friend Niky who helped me beta-read this!
> 
> Title comes from Would That I by Hozier

Dimitri hid under the hood of his cloak, his eyes roaming around the tavern as he took a step inside. It wasn’t often that he would find himself walking around the streets of small villages, not while hiding his identity at the very least. He liked to make his presence known, liked to let all of his people--whether big or small, know that he was there for them in any capacity. It was frequently, after all, that he would go on tours with a few of his friends, and visit all the villages that surrounded Faerghus. 

But more often than not, he liked to pay small visits to the little village in the south of Fhirdiad, where a group of children would await his arrival, ready to listen to whatever new lesson Dimitri would offer them. It was a habit he had taken from his years as a teenager, to take on his free days to teach young orphans how to read and to fight. 

But being the king of Faerghus meant little free time, and fewer opportunities to visit the children. He would find himself more caught up in meetings and treaties, balls he would find himself scurrying out of that were run by the nobility. He had been told by Margrave and Rodrigue how his visits to the orphanage would come to an end once he stepped down as the king, both because of his own new responsibilities, and because being a man in his position, he couldn’t simply be a teacher, be it whoever that he taught.

Nevertheless, being the stubborn man he was, Dimitri found his way out of the castle when his tasks were few and his mornings longer. He would hide behind a smaller cloak, and a hood that covered most of his hair. He found it rather amusing how little people would recognize him were he to wear less exuberant clothes, those clearly unfit for those who deemed themselves as nobility. He liked them for the comfort they offered, and for the peace and tranquillity he would find while roaming the village. Though such was not always the case, for every now and then someone’s eyes would widen at the sight of his long, golden locks. Dimitri would always hide inside a tavern, where only a few daring visitors would walk inside.

It was his favorite place after the orphanage, where he could simply walk in with none of the mercenaries or knights in there paying him any mind. Even when there were no gentlemen or ladies chasing him out and about, demanding to hear if he was the king, Dimitri liked to go into the tavern, and ask for a small drink to fill his stomach before he embarked on his journey back to the capital. Oftentimes he would ask for a special dish to dine if he stayed longer than he meant to. Dimitri sat alone and listened to the conversations the mercenaries would share—the songs they would sing at the top of their lungs. 

A few times had he been tempted to join in, to make friends among these strangers he would occasionally meet. There was a certain young woman—not so far from his own age, that would lock eyes with him every now and then, her gaze curious, and yet solemn; a sea of pure serenity, a beautiful teal. 

He had thought of walking towards her, to ask her for her name, but in all of those occasions he had found himself glued to his seat, his jittery hands holding onto his pint firmly, with no desire to let go. He had once walked to their table, had nervously asked if they knew the directions to the orphanage, in hopes that she would be the one to speak, but all to no avail as the man sitting beside her calmly explained.

She had been there upon Dimitri’s arrival, sitting among the group with a most solemn expression. It was rare that she would smile or be angered, almost as rare as the occasions in which Dimitri would hear her voice. She was a serious woman, of that he had no doubt, and a strange sight to be found among such a rowdy and playful group. He had gazed upon her once before he took a seat, hoping that the gentleman who had chased him around the streets had disappeared altogether by now. She returned his gaze for a brief moment before she took a turn around and promptly left.

Dimitri was struck by the suddenness of her departure, bewildered by the oddity of her actions. The man who would always sit beside her carried on with his conversation as though nothing had happened. Dimitri sank into his seat then, his mind filling with all sorts of dark thoughts as he thought on this previous encounter. He couldn’t help but to feel as though he had been the person behind her sudden departure, after all, it had been him whom her gaze had last fallen upon before she had gotten up and left—it had been him who would often lock eyes with her whenever he went down to visit, each time eager to speak to her and then not doing it at all. What an uncomfortable thought it would be to find this strange man following you around with his gaze whenever you hoped to be at peace with your fellow friends in a tavern, and how often Dimitri would do it!

He stared down at his hands with embarrassment, pushing down any thought of getting a pint. He couldn’t really swallow any drink, not upon the realisation that he had made someone uncomfortable enough to walk away from his gaze. It wasn’t like him, after all, to do such a thing. He wasn’t the kind of man to seek out someone else’s company, not in the way Sylvain did. But there was something about her—her gaze, and the way Dimitri had seen her spar once before with her comrades that struck his curiosity. 

He let out a sigh as he made up his mind to take at least a small drink--after all, he had gone all the way to the tavern in hopes to get his stomach full before he departed, and he didn’t wish to get strange looks from the mercenaries sitting there. The taverner greeted him with a warm smile, grateful to have yet another customer to pay for his next day’s food. Dimitri made sure to return his smile, albeit smaller, before he turned on his heel to head back to his table. He was taken by surprise by the door of the establishment suddenly opening, and the man who had been chasing after him earlier walked in with a rather slow step.

Dimitri’s eyes widened in surprise, and before he had a chance to take a gulp of his drink, he placed it on the nearest table, and ran outside before the man could react. He could almost hear the man calling to  _ his majesty _ , begging to have a word with Dimitri, wondering if his intuition had perhaps been correct. There was not much to discuss now that Dimitri had ran away--why else could he have left in such a haste if he wasn’t indeed the king. Dimitri almost lamented his empty stomach, when he stumbled upon the young woman standing almost outside the tavern, her hands caressing the soft hair of a white horse.

“Pardon me, Miss,” Dimitri said nervously, his hands stretching out to touch the horse. 

The young woman looked up from the horse to gaze at him, her eyes bright with amusement. “I was beginning to think you would never arrive.”

Dimitri tilted his head bewildered before he looked aside to find the man who had been chasing him make his way towards the two of them, his face red from exhaustion. Dimitri could tell he was still speaking, still muttering the words  _ ‘your majesty’ _ , and a million other questions about Dimitri’s presence in such a village. Dimitri let out a sigh, and promised himself to do it right the next time. 

When he turned to look at the young woman once again, he murmured the words he’d never thought he would. “Pardon me, Miss,” he repeated, “But I’m afraid I’ll have to steal your horse.”

* * *

  
  
Dimitri rode on his own horse, the white steed following their step. It had been a lovely day following the morning, and although clouds were circling in the sky, Dimitri was certain he could ride through the afternoon with no issue. Days had become rather steady back in Fhirdiad, much warmer than he was accustomed to. It was nearing the warmest days of the year, the warmest in Faerghus.

Dimitri had come to know how much colder his homeland was compared to the rest of Fódlan, how much warmer all days were in the south, how perfectly sunny springs and summers, and even autumns were in the west. He had enjoyed the time he had spent in the officer’s academy back in Garreg Mach, with its bright springs and warm afternoons. There were times when he longed to go back to the old days, take a day for himself and visit old friends. But he had done enough of that on all the days he had taken for himself and the children he dearly loved to teach. 

He stopped his horse outside a rather humble household, one he had come across on more than one occasion as he made his way to the orphanage every few months. There was an old lady sitting in front of the door, sewing under the warmth of the sun. She seemed embellished in her own task, so much so that she hadn’t noticed Dimitri. When he stepped in front of her, the two horses steadily following his hand, she looked up with a questioning look before her eyes widened.

“Your majesty,” the old woman whispered, hardly containing her surprise.

Dimitri offered her a warm smile and a cordial nod. “Good day, madam,” he said, “Do you happen to know a young woman with teal hair and eyes to match? The one known as the Ashen Demon by her group of mercenaries? A few of her comrades shared the name with me, after I left her rather abruptly a few days back. I wish to give her a gift as an apology, and a proper greeting as a friend. I’m rather embarrassed of my behavior from the other day.”

The old woman nodded, her mouth still agape. She pointed to her left, her hands trembling. “There is a tavern, right where the village comes to an end. It’s probably not the kind of place for a man in your position, but she’s surely there. That group of mercenaries led by her father visits it more often than not,” she explained. When she looked back up at him, she beamed. “Your majesty, what is a man as wonderful as you doing in a place like this?” 

Dimitri’s lips quirked upwards, the smile quickly reaching his eyes. He could feel a faint blush coloring his cheeks, still a little bashful whenever he was paid a compliment. He took the old lady’s hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Would you believe me if I told you, this is my favorite place to be other than my home?”

The old lady looked at him perplexed but did not seek any further explanation. Instead, she returned his smile, and watched quietly as Dimitri followed the path she had shown him—a path Dimitri had come to know like the very back of his hand.

The way towards the tavern was much easier than Dimitri had expected. The sky had turned grey, and the horses weren’t tired from all the hours spent under the sun. The tavern was almost empty, were it not for the few mercenaries who drank together happily, and the man who had recognized Dimitri from the other afternoon. 

Dimitri greeted them with a bashful smile, feeling rather self conscious of the clothes he had brought this once. He had left the circlet that crowned his head back in Fhirdiad, thinking it a little exaggerate to bring with him, but his outfit that day was rather more regal—something surely fit for a king. He felt uncomfortable wearing such clothes in this village he had come to think of as his second home; the one place where he could be something more than a king. But he had promised he would do things right, and just this once, he would visit the village as the king.

“Frederick Fletcher, son of Walter Fletcher,” Dimitri said gently, “I trust you are in good health. Your wife and children shared your name with me earlier this morning. You have a delightful family, I hope you strive for their happiness. And your own as well, of course.”

Frederick nodded, still surprised. Dimitri noticed the taverner who would often share his drinks and give him something to dine was standing behind them. His mouth agape. There were several things Dimitri had to explain, but all the time of the day left to make it. “I—I am, your majesty. Thank you. Wh—“

“Oh, I apologize for my sudden apparition, I didn't mean to intrude on anyone this day. I only wish to give back something I’d taken away the other day.”

The taverner and Frederick nodded, their eyes fleeting from Dimitri to something in the back. Dimitri’s expression softened as the surprise slowly crept out of the two men’s gazes. The others in the room turned with curiosity, but not for Dimitri, rather that which stood behind him. When Dimitri turned his head to search for the culprit of such curiosity, he found the young woman with teal hair. 

She looked solemn, as Dimitri was used to seeing her, but there was something new in her eyes—fire, or anger perhaps. And it was directed at Dimitri.

“You stole my horse,” she said steadily, her eyes narrowing. 

“I—I did,” Dimitri concurred, his voice failing him. He cleared his throat and took a step closer to her. “And I’m terribly sorry,” he continued, feeling slightly more confident. “I will understand if you do not wish to forgive me. I’ve brought him back to you, of course, he’s right outside the tavern, standing next to my own horse. If you will allow me, I would like to make it up to you—“

The young woman parted her lips to speak, her eyes glinting with that subtle amusement Dimitri had seen once before, when she had spoken to him before he took her horse. The door of the tavern opened again, and the man who would always accompany her slowly walked in, interrupting her thoughts. He took a look around the room, perplexed, seeking answers regarding all the fuss, when his eyes landed on Dimitri.

“Your majesty?” the man asked confused, “What’s a man like you doing here?”

“Majesty?” the woman asked, just as bewildered. She took a look at Dimitri, then at the older man, when she spoke resolutely. “He stole my horse.”

“Your horse? Byleth, what on Earth have you gotten yourself into—“

“Pardon me,” Dimitri interrupted, “I came here to apologize for my actions. The other day… I did not wish to be recognized by the villagers, but I’m afraid such wasn’t my luck. If I can make it up to you, however—“

The young woman—no, Byleth, placed a hand over his lips. She smiled at him softly, her teal eyes glinting. “There’s no need for you to apologize, I understand,” she said, “Had I known you were the king, I would have offered the horse to you without asking. You did a wonderful job concealing your identity, I wouldn’t have guessed you were a king from all the times you came to this tavern.”

“You come here often?” the man asked, perplexed. He turned towards the taverner who looked equally as bewildered, then shook his head and took a seat beside a table. “What on Earth is going on here…”

“Your majesty—“

“Please, call me Dimitri.”

“Dimitri,” Byleth said sweetly, his name a melody on her lips. She looked as steady as she often did when they locked eyes in the past, but there was something different to her demeanor—something brighter and beautiful. “Why don’t you do me the honor of having a drink with me, and tell me the sorts of adventures that have driven you to a village such as this.”

Dimitri allowed himself to be guided to a table, farther from all the mercenaries and wide, curious eyes. Byleth placed a hand on his arm briefly as the two of them sat down, then dropped it quickly afterwards; the absence of her warmth sent a shiver through him. He wondered if she’d ever touch his arm again, then thought of all that she’d just told him, and how he would begin to tell the story of the orphans he’d begun to train since his teenage years.

“It would be my pleasure,” he answered honestly, his chest swelling. When her eyes locked with his, she was smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, all support is greatly appreciated!


End file.
